


want your everything as long as it's free

by thatworldinverted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatworldinverted/pseuds/thatworldinverted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles likes to drink, and he likes to fuck, and he likes the way Derek smiles when they're both trashed. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	want your everything as long as it's free

They’re drunk the first time it happens- Stiles fumbling and laughing, Derek with an _I’m so wasted_ grin stretched across his face. They trip each other into bed, clothes tangled around wrists and ankles, everything extra-hilarious as they race each other to get off. The second and third rounds are a drunken haze, all sloppy, spit-slick blowjobs and _show me, show me how you want it, I’m so, fuck_.

It’s no big deal to Stiles; he’s twenty-eight, they’re friends, drunken hook-ups are a thing, whatevs. He thinks they should do it again, and often, because even drunk it was pretty fucking- heh- great, and it can only get better from here, right? 

Derek’s first words- once he’s done gasping out his _oh gods_ and _fuck, Stiles_ \- are _this was a bad idea_. 

Well, fine then. 

Stiles gathers up his clothes, grabs an apple from the kitchen, ruffles Derek’s hair on his way out the door. Derek doesn’t want to tap this fine piece of ass again, then it’s no skin off Stiles’ nose. He does spare a second to mourn the loss of that absolutely gorgeous cock. 

Derek gets tense and weird around him for a little while. He sits all the way across the room at pack meetings, talks in Stiles’ direction but never to his face. Please. Stiles has enough self-respect that he’s not going to force himself on someone completely unwilling, give him some credit. 

It’s possible that he squeezes his way into tight t-shirts and skinny jeans, though, just to see the way Derek’s eyes drag up Stiles’ legs and across his chest before Derek manages to tear his gaze away. 

He goes out, fucks someone else, takes a sadistic sort of pleasure in Derek’s clenched teeth when he spots the livid mark under Stiles’ jaw. 

After a while the amusement fades, and they settle back into an easy friendship. It’s video games and late night texts, movie nights and snack runs, the occasional life-saving rescue on both sides.

The fourth time it happens, they’re drunk again. Completely trashed, really, and Stiles spends some time rambling aloud about why there’s no male equivalent to the “white girl wasted” concept. _It’s so mis-miso-missss_ , he trails off, Derek laughing at the hissy sound his lips make. 

They’re literally falling on each other as they stumble back to Derek’s apartment. Stiles’ is too far to walk, no fucking way he’s getting behind the wheel of his Jeep like this, and Derek’s bed is so damn comfortable. 

He wakes up when Derek’s hand closes around his wrist. Their fingers slide down Derek’s naked chest, hesitating at the waistband of his boxers, waiting for Stiles to make the call. 

It’s yes, of course, and he nods a little blearily against Derek’s shoulders before dragging their hands down to close around Derek’s dick. Not the best handjob Stiles has ever given, and Derek’s a little too drunk to even get it up all the way, but he’s gasping and flushed, tight against Stiles, and that’s good enough. 

He pushes Stiles over afterward, pinches at his nipples and watches his face, avidly, while he whispers _do it, get yourself off for me, come on, come for me_. 

Five whole minutes go by before Derek starts freaking out this time. 

Stiles laughs, kisses him on the forehead, and tells him to go back to sleep. He makes toast, leaves a couple of pieces on a plate on the counter for when Derek finally wakes up again. Snaps a picture of Derek, blanket pulled up like a cocoon, hair wildly poking out the top, and then he slips out the door. 

_Do you really want me to use you for sex_ , Derek asks at one point, his face the picture of concern. 

_Yes, you dumbass_ , Stiles wants to shout in response. That’s exactly what he wants. He doesn’t have time for a relationship, doesn’t want the messiness, the lies that would come with it when he can’t explain what supernatural creature kicked his ass this week. 

He just wants to get fucked sometimes. He’s a little more careful about picking up people in bars since that run-in with the incubus, and he’s a growing man, okay? He has needs. 

Needs which Derek’s big hands and sweet mouth fulfill nicely. 

The fifth time he sees their hook-up coming a mile away. Derek gets handsier with every beer. The guy sitting at the far end of the bar salutes Stiles with his drink. The thought crosses his mind that maybe, just maybe, he should get off this ride now, but he loses track of it when Derek pins him against the wall outside the bar and fucking ravages his mouth. 

Derek’s apartment again, of course. They’re going to have to pick a different bar, something closer to Stiles’ place, so that he’s not the one that has to walk-of-shame it home afterward every time. ‘Cause who’s he kidding, really- he’s not going to say no. He’s using Derek for sex as much as Derek’s using him, and whatever’s getting up Derek’s ass- ha!- about it, it’s not Stiles’ problem. That’s the nice thing about getting to leave in the morning. He just wishes they didn’t have to go through the whole period where Derek sulks and regrets his life choices every time.

The sex is goddamn fantastic this time around. Derek holds him down, sucks his cock so slow and sweet and sloppy that Stiles is practically in tears by the time Derek slides a well-lubed finger into him. He comes and comes and _comes_ , little drops of it sliding down Derek’s chin. He returns the favor with interest, eats Derek’s ass until the man’s shredding the sheets and writhing underneath him, asscheeks red from the clench of Stiles’ hands. 

He wakes up the next morning and trips over his own pants when he finds Derek making scrambled eggs in the kitchen. Stiles grabs a plate and settles in to watch Derek play the newest _Dead Rising_ for a while. 

It’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Title, of course, from Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance." 
> 
> Come find me on [on tumblr](http://thatworldinverted.tumblr.com), I have porn and cookies.


End file.
